


Who the Devil

by ScooterThyme



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Hell, Memories, writing about assholes is difficult
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-25
Updated: 2016-06-25
Packaged: 2018-07-18 03:35:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7297861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScooterThyme/pseuds/ScooterThyme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yes, Malcolm was rotten to begin with, but his brief stint in Hell did not leave him unscathed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Who the Devil

They usually hit at the most random times, out of the blue--his memories of Hell.

He remembered as he was on his way to Detective Decker’s home. The distraction came as he was making his way through traffic, almost causing him to pull over and take a moment before possibly causing an accident. The heat of the city air briefly reminded him of the stale, ash filled atmosphere of Hell. It had been so sultry and stifling, he felt like his lungs were constantly on fire, burning inside out. There was no escape.

For once that day, the timing of a red light was welcomed. He closed his eyes, placed his hand on his chest, and took a moment. Deep breaths, he told himself, deep breaths.

 

* * *

  
Sure, it was late, he was tired, and he’d had a long day, but he still couldn’t sleep.

Seeking some comforting and familiar scenery, he’d ended up at a small all-night diner he used to frequent when needing a break from particularly tricky cases. The feast before him was absolutely ridiculous. There was no way he’d sleep reasonably if he attempted to eat even half of it. He didn’t care. For the past few hours hours, recollections of weeks, years, and decades of starving plagued his mind. Not even the sweat from his face held any taste in it then, and the mere concept of sustenance didn’t seem to exist--only the knowledge that it used to.

He tucked into his food, torn between savoring every bite and shoveling it into his mouth as fast as possible.

 

* * *

Was it just him, or did the temperature rise just like the elevator?

He knew he was dancing in a dangerous conversation, but he had the gun, so he had the upper hand. Lucifer Morningstar didn’t scare him. Made him feel very uneasy, yes. Made it hard to concentrate, yes. But he’d never openly admit the man--the Devil--actually intimidated him. The more he heard from that low threatening voice, the more visions of demons tormented his brain, with their faces flash-flipping between merely unnerving to frighteningly grotesque. All the moisture seemed to leave his head, causing his mouth and eyes to feel dry.

Perhaps that was the reason it didn’t actually phase him much when his opponent briefly morphed into his own demonic state.

“Is that all you got?”

The discussion began to turn, and he started to fear it was no longer in his favor. Then Lucifer held up a large coin. A coin that, from his mind, seemed to almost glow. It sang to him. He couldn’t decipher the song, nor could he take his eyes off of it. The more the Devil played with the trinket, the more it taunted him.

He carefully reached forward, pulling the coin out of the air above Lucifer’s outstretched hand. It burned, but he held onto it for dear life, because he knew that’s exactly what it offered.

Malcolm slunk back to the elevator, completely unable to decipher the emotions he was going through.

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for a weekend challenge in the Lucifer section of Amino. I have to admit, writing for such a rotten character was *indeed* quite challenging.


End file.
